Under Mirk Wood

Dyl(an) “M” for Mordor

[Silence]

FIRST VOICE

To begin at the beginning.

It is spring, moonless night in the great wood, starless and rider-black, the hobbled trees silent and the hunched woodland limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, barreldwarfbobbing river. The treetrunks are blind as moles (though moles see fine to-night in their snouting, velvet dingles) or blind as Captain Eärendil, up in gleaming Vingilótë, high of sky, the star of morning in mourning. And all the people of the lulled and dumbfound world are sleeping now. Hush, the babies are sleeping, the farmers, the fishers, the tradesmen and gentlehobbits, cobbler, gardener, postman and publican, the webfoot Sméagolgollum and the tidy elves. And the anthracite statues of the horses sleep in the fields, and the cows in the byres, and the dogs in the wetnosed yards; and the giant spiders nap in the slant corners of trees, or scuttle sly, streaking and needling, from treetop to treetop.

Time passes.

Listen. Time passes.

Come closer now. Only you can hear the trees sleeping. From where you are, you can hear their dreams. Captain Eärendil, the blind sea-captain, astar in the sky in the constellated dark, shipshape in the best cabin of Vingilótë dreams of

SECOND VOICE

never such seas as any that swamped the decks of his S.S. Foamflower bellying over the decktimber and jellyfish-slippery sucking him down salt deep into the Ulmo’s dark where the fish come biting out and nibble him down to his wishbone, and the long drowned nuzzle up to him.

FIRST DROWNED

Remember me, Captain?

CAPTAIN EÄRENDIL

You’re Círdan the Shipwright!

FIRST DROWNED

I lost my step in Arvernien.

SECOND DROWNED

I’m Elwing. When Fëanor’s sons came to snatch the Silmarils and killed all my neighbours, I leapt into the sea, rather than be captured. Now I fly through the air as a great white bird, the Silmaril shining in the white feathers of my breast.

CAPTAIN EÄRENDIL

Oh, my dead dear!

FIRST VOICE

From here you are you can hear in the Elvenking Halls in the spring, dawn, Thranduil, singing to the strumming of the golden harp. Sindar king, golden hair, with a crown of red leaves and berries in the autumn, and a crown of flowers in the spring:

THRANDUIL

[singing] I ride a moose
the size of a house.
You might deduce
it’s perilouse
but on my stag
I do not fuss:
compared to Smaug
It’s not periluss.

SMAUG

I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems. No blade can pierce me.

BARD THE BOWMAN

[banging on the door of the Sailors Arms inn] Draw me a pint in the sunlit bar, innkeeper! Just one pint, I beg of you. I have a terrible thirst upon me!

INNKEEPER

You’re not coming in, boyo. You’re bard.

FIRST VOICE

And here, sliding from tree to tree, shadow to shadow, creeping and smoking gauloises, mumbling gallic, is Monsieur Lom, the Gaulish haunter.

GAUL LOM

[to himself] précieuxsss

FIRST VOICE

Strong steps from short legs, marching among the green lathered trees, come dwarves, thirteen of them, led by Thorin the Borin’. Bearing the slumbrous body of bombed out burbling Bombur.

THORIN

Now lads, I have a question. How would you, would you? How would you address a garden implement? Formally? Friendly?

BALIN

Hello spade.

DWALIN

Greetings, rake.

GLOIN

Hi, hoe.

THORIN

Hi, hoe?

GLOIN

Hi, hoe.

DWARVES

[singing] To Erebor we go
[they all whistle]

FIRST VOICE

On the margins of the wood, a tall and hirsute figure goes stomping. Why do we say hirsute? Hissute would surely be more fitting for a figure like

BEORN
[recently woken, grumpily] Beorn

LEFOU FROM “BEAUTY AND THE BEAST”
Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, Beorn
Looking so sad and unsunny
Ev’ry guy here’d love to be you, Beorn
Especially eating your honey
There’s no man in Mirkwood as fair as you are
You’re everyone’s favourite guy
We’re all of us scared by the bear that you are
And it’s not very hard to see why

No one’s slick like Beorn
No-one licks like Beorn
No one’s neck’s as incredibly thick as Beorn’s
For there’s no one around half as manly
Though half is the limit-point there
You can ask any Un, Wyn, or Stanley

CROWD
And they’ll tell you: the other half’s gigantic bear —

LEFOU
They don’t grin like Beorn
They don’t win like Beorn
No one’s constantly changing his skin like Beorn

BEORN
Between man-form and bear-form I’m fluctuating —

ALL
Ai! What a guy, that Beorn

Give five “hurrahs!”
Give twelve “lordy-lawks!”

LEFOU
Beorn is the best
And the rest is all orcs

CROWD
No one slogs like Beorn
Tosses logs like Beorn
In the bear-bating nobody dogs like Beorn

BEORN
[coughs nervously]

GIRLS
No one creeps like Beorn
No one leaps like Beorn

LEFOU
When it’s bedtime there’s nobody sleeps like Beorn

BEORN
From October to April I’m hibernating —

ALL
Best not disturb that Beorn.

SMAUG
[waking abruptly]
Wait — what’s that? Something’s not right. Somebody’s here, but I can’t see them —
Where’s my golden cup??

BILBO
[pocketing the cup, sneaking out]
[quietly, to himself]
Unexpected item in the Baggins area.